Mad World
by reignofdreams
Summary: Steve has always put duty before desire and he doesn't believe anything can ever change that. Bucky just wants to give his daughter the best life he can and he doesn't need anyone else in his life to complicate that. Chance meetings, magic curses, and a little girl determined to see her father happy may just change that. (AKA the OUAT AU nobody asked for) For Stucky Big Bang 2019


"Let it be known throughout the land that the princess, Snow White, is wanted for treason and the murder of our beloved king!"

Steve stands rigid at his post, teeth clenched so hard he can feel his jaw creak with the strain. He struggles to keep his fury from spilling across his face as shocked whispers ripple through the gathered crowd.

"By order of the Queen," the herald continues, "Snow White is hereby stripped of all titles. Furthermore, a reward shall be granted to any who bring forth information leading to her capture."

Murmuring rustles through the onlookers in the courtyard below, but it swiftly dies when the Queen herself steps forward. Her inky hair is bound up in an elaborate bun, the silver of her crown gleaming even in the weak light of the overcast skies. A sheer black veil hangs over her eyes, the velvet ebony train of her gown whispering against the stone floor of the balcony as she stops just in front of the railing. Queen Regina surveys her captive audience with an air of solemn poise, the perfect image of a woman bent but unbroken by the weight of sudden loss and betrayal. In the silence, her voice rings out regal and clear.

"Snow has not only betrayed me and my late husband. She has betrayed the trust and loyalty of you, her subjects! No one is above the law, royalty or not, and I will not rest until justice has been carried out. Make no mistake, she _will _pay for her crimes." For a moment, her calm exterior slips and there is no mistaking the icy fury in her voice. "_Anyone_ found to be helping her will face the same fate."

No one makes a sound as the queen turns from the railing and glides back inside.

Steve has to hand it to her, he could almost believe the lie. Almost.

From his position flanking the balcony doors, he is the only one who can see the way Regina's blood red lips briefly quirk into a small smile of triumph.

She pauses as she reaches him, and Steve fights to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

"Captain Rogers," she intones, before continuing inside. She doesn't need more than that to command him to follow, and Steve has never hated his position more.

He follows.

* * *

The walk to the Queen's chambers is made in silence.

The entire castle has been eerily quiet in the wake of King Leopold's death and the princess's sudden disappearance. Those loyal to Snow White were abruptly dismissed from service and much of the old castle guard has been reassigned to positions abroad, only to be replaced by strangers and men loyal only to Regina herself. Steve notes with a wary eye the number of men standing at attention along their path clad in sleek black armor, a glaring contrast to the gleaming silver of his own. He tries to tamp down on the tension that the observation creates.

Steve follows the queen into her rooms, stopping just inside the doors and standing at rigid attention. She doesn't say anything, just continues forward to sit in front of her vanity at the far end of the room. The veil is the first thing to go, then the ruby earrings, then the matching blood red pendant at her pale throat.

Steve remains silent and waits, taking the time that Regina is so obviously dragging out to center himself and push down the utter loathing he feels until it is reduced to an ember smoldering in his gut. He cannot give her any cause to doubt him.

Regina finally breaks the silence. "You've been in service to this kingdom for some time, haven't you, Captain?" she asks, tone pitched slightly higher with mild curiosity.

"Since I was nineteen, Your Majesty," Steve answers calmly, keeping his gaze from meeting hers in the mirror.

"Eight years? And how long have you been Captain of the King's Guard?" she asks, voice still light as she turns in her seat to face him.

"Five," he replies simply, hoping that his clipped answers are interpreted as being respectfully to the point instead of reluctant.

Regina rises with liquid grace. Steve wonders how many people have been lured in by that deadly beauty. "How does someone so young rise so quickly to a position of such prominence?"

Steve isn't sure where this line of questioning is leading, but he tries to stifle his uneasiness. He needs to remain focused. "I saved his life during an assassination attempt," he explains. "When I recovered, the King offered me the position as thanks and I accepted."

He still has the scar on his right shoulder where the assassin's blade slipped through the gap in his armor and sank into flesh.

"Noble and loyal to a fault," Regina acknowledges, eyeing him with open appreciation as she slowly closes the distance between them. "It is rare to find men of your caliber. Such loyalty to the crown is vital, especially in this time of…upheaval."

Silver words from a silver tongue. Steve only nods his understanding, posture stiffening ever so slightly as Regina stops before him and reaches out to run a slender hand lightly along the smooth line of his jaw.

"Can I count on you, Captain?"

His heart is hammering in his chest when he answers, "Yes."

The smile Regina flashes him as she pulls back is all gleaming teeth. _A predator cornering its prey_ Steve thinks.

"Good. I have a job for you."

* * *

Steve shuts the heavy oak door behind him with a sigh of relief, allowing the tension to finally seep from his muscles. The days following his king's death have not been easy. King Leopold may not have been a perfect ruler, but Steve had always respected the man's love for his people and his clear devotion to his daughter. His death had been a blow, but the disappearance of his daughter and only heir barely a week after the funeral has left everyone reeling.

Now Regina holds the throne. He tries not to shiver at the memory of the woman's cool touch. From the day she had married into the royal family, every instinct in him had screamed that she couldn't be trusted. It hadn't been anything truly obvious, but a gut level suspicion at the way she held herself apart from everything without making it obvious that she was doing so. There were also the dark looks Steve caught her giving Snow once or twice when no one was looking. As the captain of the king's personal guard, he was always hyper vigilant of ill intent directed toward the royal family.

But King Leopold was the happiest he'd been since the death of his first wife, Eva, and wouldn't hear a word against Regina. The one-time Steve had brought his concerns to his king, Leopold had curtly dismissed him with barely any consideration of his words. Even Snow looked up to her stepmother, and Steve was forced to remain silent and watchful.

For all the good that did.

Steve moves to stand before the mirror near his bedside, running his fingers through the golden strands of his hair until the short strands hang loosely around his face. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and a defeated slump to his shoulders. He stares wordlessly at the man reflected at him, taking in the deep royal blue of his tunic and the simple silver plates of the pauldrons at his shoulders, a familiar comforting weight. The cloak draped over one shoulder is the only indication of his position, his usual gold embroidered navy cloak exchanged for a deep black in deference to the king's passing. The dark cloth is held in place by a silver brooch in the shape of a small circular shield with a star at its center, a gift from Erskine when Steve had been made captain of the King's Guard.

_ "So you remember that a knight's duty is first and foremost, to protect."_

What would Erskine think of him now?

_Failure_.

All his training and his ideals, and for what? When his king had needed him most, Steve had failed him. He'd allowed the man he'd vowed to protect to be murdered in his sleep. Because that's what it was, murder. He had seen the marks on the King's neck when he found the body. It was no mere coincidence that the genie his majesty had so quickly befriended had disappeared the night of the murder.

_Worthless_.

What sort of captain allowed his king's killer to disappear without a trace? It was unconscionable.

_What use are you? You failed him and you will fail her too._

Steve flinches away from the wretchedness in his own reflected gaze. He can't bear the thought of failing the princess too.

_ "Swear to me that you will protect my daughter."_

And he _had_ sworn. Leopold may be gone, but Snow is still out there somewhere, and he will not break this last vow. Steve stands a little taller as his resolve strengthens. He will find Snow White as Regina ordered, but when he does, he will do everything in his power to protect her and return her to her rightful place on the throne.

* * *

Steve makes his way to the stables before first light the following morning.

He'd donned a short plain blue tunic that he usually wore when training, the color faded enough from repeated washing that he shouldn't stand out too badly in a crowd. Leather trousers, well-worn riding boots, and a simple black hooded cloak to hide his face and the sword at his hip. He's been out amongst the people with the various members of the royal family enough times that his face is recognizable, at least in the villages closer to the castle. Hopefully he can pass through unnoticed.

Approaching one of the larger stalls near the back of the stable, Steve drops the pack of supplies he brought and reaches a hand over the door. A gray and white muzzle bumps affectionately at his open palm. Steve smiles.

"Hey, Ashe," he murmurs. "You ready to find our missing princess?"

The dappled gray mare nickers softly, and Steve takes that as an affirmative. He gives her an apple from his pack and quickly sets about getting her saddled. Snow has been missing for nearly two weeks and they are going to have a lot of ground to cover if they want to find her.

Loading his pack with the rest of the saddlebags, Steve leads Ashe from the stables and hoists himself onto her back effortlessly. They've ridden together long enough that it takes only the slightest urging to get her moving at a leisurely trot until they are through the outer gate and across the bridge. The moment they pass under the cover of the bordering forest, Steve gives the slightest signal and Ashe surges into a gallop. He doesn't want to give anyone the chance to follow.

By the time the sun has finally crept over the horizon, the castle is far out of sight.

* * *

It takes four days before he finally finds someone the remembers a woman matching Snow's description passing through the village briefly. From the little they can tell him, Snow was tired and on edge but unharmed. The news is at least a small comfort considering he knew nothing surrounding the circumstances of her disappearance. Regina had been holding court at the time, and Steve had been required to remain by her side during the proceedings. From what he could find out, the princess had gone for a walk and never returned.

Yet another failing.

He follows the whispers about a princess turned outlaw, taking slight comfort from the people's reluctance to pass along information. It seems Regina's decree has not dimmed the love Snow's people have for her.

Three more days of searching leads Steve to a small but thriving market town he doesn't know the name of. It's off the beaten path but serves as a hub for some of the more isolated homes and villages in the area. He's lucky enough to arrive on market day, but that luck is negated by the heavy rain that began the night before. Deciding to rent a room for the night, he's just leaving the stables when he hears a familiar voice coming from one of the stalls nearest to him.

A figure in a waterlogged green cloak is haggling with the merchant over something, voices raised more than usual in order to be heard over the loud drumming of the rain. Steve isn't close enough to see what the figure stuffs into their pouch, but it doesn't matter because they are turning and heading quickly down the row of stalls.

Steve follows the cloaked figure through the crowd, tugging his own hood farther to make himself less memorable. It isn't difficult in the rain, most people too focused on purchasing what they most need so they can quickly seek shelter from the downpour.

He nearly loses his target around the side of one of the stalls near the end of the row. Cursing under his breath he shoves his way around sodden market goers, clearing the line of merchants and turning just in time to spot the edge of a dark green cloak disappearing behind a tavern a few yards to his right. He closes the distance quickly, rounding the corner and—

The breath whooshes out of him as he's yanked off balance and shoved hard into the wall. He manages to check his momentum enough that he keeps his head from smacking into the stone, instinctively going for the knife at his belt, but every muscle tenses in forced stillness as cool metal presses at the vulnerable skin of his throat.

"Why are you following me?" a familiar voice hisses.

Steve lets some of the tension ease.

"So you _were_ paying attention to some of those lessons I gave you," he answers instead.

"Captain Rogers?" The figure retracts what Steve can now see is barely more than a butter knife.

"You're surprisingly hard to find, princess," he says, pulling his hood back just enough so she can see his face.

He watches the way her entire body just sort of slumps in relief as her eyes confirm what she already knows. Steve almost doesn't want to know what Snow has gone through these past weeks since her father's death. Regina is nothing if not persistent, and while not completely helpless, Snow didn't have the type of upbringing that would have prepared her for life on the run.

"If I wasn't hard to find," Snow quips, "Regina's patrols would have caught me weeks ago."

"Fair enough," Steve allows, not missing the shiver that runs through the princess. "There's a lot we need to discuss. How about we move this conversation _inside_ this lovely tavern instead of standing here in the rain behind it?"

Snow laughs and follows him back to the front of the tavern.

Steve is immediately on his guard when they enter, ducking his head to hide the way his eyes dart quickly around the room. The main room is crowded with people trying to warm up and wait out the rain before making the trip back to their homes. The fireplace at the end of the room gives off enough inviting heat that even Steve can't suppress a shiver at the contrast to the chill of his soaked form. He spots a table tucked closer to the wall, slightly obscured by a thick wooden support beam. He points Snow in its direction and then heads for the counter.

He orders stew and hot spiced wine for the both of them, dropping the requisite coins on the bar and giving the barkeep a nod of thanks. Steve carefully weaves his way over to Snow who has left the seat facing the entrance free for him. Smart girl. He places one of the cups in front of her which gets him a raised brow.

"Spiced wine," he explains, taking a small sip and letting the warmth filter through him.

"I don't drink," Snow says, but pulls the cup closer and gives it a curious sniff.

"It's not so bad. It'll warm you up," Steve assures. "Besides, not drinking in a tavern is a good way to stand out."

"How did you find me?"

Steve shrugs. "Mostly traveled place to place, asking around. Not as straightforward as you would expect," he admits. "Your people are quite tightlipped when it comes to you. I'm glad of it."

Their conversation pauses as their food is brought over. Snow falls on the stew as if she hasn't eaten in days. Steve takes the time to subtly observe her as they both eat. Her long black hair has lost its usual sheen, the usual glow of her pale skin has given way to an unhealthy pallor.

Finally, he asks the question that has haunted him for weeks. "What happened the day you disappeared, Snow?"

Snow tells him. Between bites of stew and sips of wine, she tells him about leaving the palace for a walk with one of the knights escorting her. Except it wasn't a knight at all. Snow tells him about not recognizing the man and knowing that he wasn't there for her protection.

"You know I'm familiar with the knights," she explains. "When I confronted him, he told me he was a hunter. He didn't even try to lie about being there to kill me. It didn't take much to realize it was Regina who sent him."

Steve grits his teeth against the rage that bubbles up all over again. Snow doesn't need his anger right now, not yet. "How did you escape?"

"He let me go," she says simply. That distracts Steve from his temper momentarily.

"He what?"

"The hunter let me write a letter to my step-mother. I told her that I hoped my death would finally bring her peace. He read what I wrote and I suppose it moved him to spare me," she admits quietly. "So I ran."

This is the woman he is sworn to protect. Someone so fundamentally good that she would wish peace for the woman who had ordered her murder.

"There's something else you should know," Steve says quietly, eyes darting around the room to be sure no one else is paying them any mind. "The snake we found, the one that killed your father...it was an Agrabah viper."

Snow nods. "The knights who found it said it must have been the genie."

"It _was_ he who set the snake loose in your father's chamber," Steve confirms. "But your father told me a few days before he died that he'd discovered Regina was in love with someone else, someone who was actively courting her favor."

Snow's hazel eyes widen. "You think he was the one she was in love with? That he killed my father for her?"

Steve shrugs. "I'm sure that was his reasoning, but I don't believe she loved him." He thinks about the lies she's already spun to discredit Snow and how swiftly she did away with those who were not loyal to her before anyone. "I think she was using him. Manipulating his feelings so that she wouldn't be suspected of your father's murder."

"And then she tried to kill me," Snow adds, eyes darkening. "But what am I supposed to do? There's no proof she killed my father and the genie was never caught."

Steve winces. It isn't an accusation, but still…

He's about to explain that he has some ideas on allies they can gather from neighboring kingdoms but two figures entering the tavern draw his attention.

Steve tenses. There's something off about the two. They make their way casually toward the bar, but they carry themselves as if readying for a fight. The way they slowly survey the crowd without ever ordering anything is another red flag and Steve doesn't need any more evidence to know that they aren't regular patrons.

"We need to go," he murmurs, trying to keep the two men at the corner of his vision. "Get up slowly and casually make your way to the front. Try to keep along the wall with the crowd between us and the bar, I'll be right behind you."

Snow nods and does as he instructs, keeping her gaze straight ahead and hood pulled farther to hide her face. They make it outside, unnoticed from what Steve can tell. The center of town is mostly empty, the few merchants willing to brave the downpour having finally given up for the day. It makes it all too easy to spot another two men coming out of the inn a few building's down. They have the same air about them as the pair in the tavern and Steve pulls Snow around the side of the tavern and leads her along the less traveled path behind the buildings circling the courtyard.

Snow is silent behind him, the tight squeeze of her hand in his the only indication of her nerves. They enter the stables as quietly as possible so as not to excite the horses. It doesn't escape Steve's notice that there are three mounts tied to the outer posts, still saddled and ready to ride. Making their way over to Ashe, Steve keeps watch as Snow saddles the mare.

More figures are entering the main plaza, heading directly for them. He counts five heading their way, though he doesn't spot the two from the tavern. They may be dressed as commoners, but their bearing tells him they are likely one of Regina's patrols. If it was just him it wouldn't be a problem, but her black knights aren't pushovers and his top priority is protecting Snow.

Snow meets him at the stable doors, Ashe trailing at her heels. He gives her a boost into the saddle and instead of mounting, shoves his coin purse into her hand.

"What are you doing?" she asks, eyes wide.

"It's you they're after, and Ashe is faster with one rider," Steve explains quickly. "Take her and go. There should be another village, Melrin, about a day's ride west of here. I'll delay them as long as I can and try to keep them off your tail."

Snow is shaking her head, but Steve isn't willing to risk her. He won't fail again. He tries to put as much confidence in his voice as he can.

"I'll take care of them and then I'll head to you. Give me three days," he says. "If I don't meet you at the inn by that time, find somewhere to go to ground. You can't let Regina catch you."

They're wasting precious time, but Steve needs to know that she will take his words to heart. Snow is the only other heir to the throne. Without her, Regina's power will be solidified, and no one will be able to challenge her without plunging the kingdom into war and chaos. Snow finally nods and Steve doesn't give her any more time to change her mind. He checks one more time to gauge the enemy's position and then gives Ashe's flank a firm slap.

The mare gives a whinny and bolts, Snow clutching desperately at her reins. Steve is already sprinting after them, sword drawn as he tackles the closest man who had been hiding just outside the door. The others are sprawled on the ground, having leapt aside to avoid being trampled.

Steve grapples with the first man for a moment, ignoring the knee to his unprotected stomach to knock the man unconscious with the pommel of his sword. He scrambles to his feet, the other four already recovered and moving. They charge straight for him with swords drawn, two trying to distract him as their partners make for their mounts. Steve wastes no time, parrying one swing and dodging the second, pivoting around and sprinting for the two heading for the horses.

He manages to trip one up and swings the flat of his blade at the head of the other. The man drops like a stone and Steve uses the rest of his momentum to sever the ropes securing the restless mounts in place. The agitated animals waste no time bolting off and Steve turns back just in time to see a blade being thrust at his middle.

It doesn't sink into his gut the way his attacker intended, but he isn't fast enough to completely dodge, and he feels the cold bite of steel as it slices just below his ribs and through his unprotected side. He _really_ wishes he had his armor right now. Steve grits his teeth against the scream that wants to bubble up and uses his momentum to thrust his own blade through the other man.

Four down.

The clattering of hooves draws his attention back towards the inn across the plaza and Steve doesn't hold back the curse that spills from his lips as three riders take off in the direction Ashe and Snow had gone. He whirls around, sheathing his sword as he sprints back into the stables. Not bothering to saddle the first horse he comes across, he swings himself painfully onto its back and digs in his heels hard, taking off after Snow's pursuers.

Every jolt of the animal sends a burst of agony through his side and Steve fights to remain astride it. He can't let them catch up to Snow. It doesn't take long to catch up to them, the soldiers having to slow considerably in order to figure out which way Ashe went. The rain is doing a good job of swiftly obscuring her tracks and Steve is grateful for small mercies. One peels off the main road, following what looks like a slightly narrower path or maybe a deer run. Steve focuses on the other two, clattering up behind one and yanking the man from his saddle before his companion can cry out a warning.

He goes for the man still mounted next, sword just managing to catch the saddle straps. The movement sends him sliding off his own mount and he crashes to the ground. The impact leaves him gasping for breath, his only consolation the sound of the other man meeting a similar fate.

When Steve manages to blink things back into focus, he sees the man groaning on the ground but making no effort to rise. He lurches forward thinking to knock the man out completely when pain lances through his right shoulder. It sends him back to his knees and Steve doesn't bite back the scream this time. He gropes blindly, fingers grazing the shaft of an arrow and he lets out a colorful string of curses. Turning, he sees the first man he'd attacked trying to knock another arrow, grip slipping in the rain.

Breathing heavily, Steve lets adrenaline propel him shakily to his feet. He covers the distance in a few long strides and drives his blade into the man before he can fire again. They sink to the ground together, and for a moment Steve just stays there kneeling in the mud and rain with a dead man slumped against him.

His vision wavers in and out for a few minutes and Steve tries to take deep breaths to get the world around him to just _stop spinning_. He needs to move, needs to go after the last soldier. He wants to remove the arrow embedded in his shoulder–the same shoulder as the assassination attempt, he thinks a bit hysterically–but any move to reach for it causes fire to radiate in his side and he can't afford to pass out.

The dead man's horse has surprisingly halted a few feet away and Steve musters every last ounce of strength to drag himself over to it and onto the saddle. His vision whites out and he's pretty sure he screams again when the movement further tears at his side. When his vision clears, he pulls the knife at his belt and cuts a long strip from his sodden cloak. He ties the material around his middle as tightly as he can stand before nudging the surprisingly calm beast back the way they came.

The adrenaline is quickly leaving his system and Steve nearly misses the path that he's looking for. The forest path is clearer than he first suspected, and he urges the horse into a light canter, the fastest he can stand with his injuries. He has no idea if Snow went this way, but he can't allow the other man to catch up if she did.

The rain continues soaking through his clothes. It isn't a cold rain, but he's so thoroughly drenched that he is starting to shiver. The blood loss certainly isn't helping and every hoofbeat sends pain through every muscle. He struggles to remain conscious, trying to drum up any bit of stubborn determination that he can, but it's a losing battle. His fingers are going numb at the reins.

Steve makes it a few minutes more before pain and exhaustion wins out and he is dragged into darkness.


End file.
